(We all use phrases from Shakespeare in everyday conversation. We just don’t always recognize that fact. All of the highlighted phrases in this piece were used in Shakespeare’s plays.)
Knock, knock. Who’s there? Why it’s William Shakespeare. And as good luck would have it, today is his 450th birthday! As a master of the Queen’s English, Shakespeare determined that all the world’s a stage and the men and women are merely players. Though many people walk around saying, “I can’t understand Shakespeare. It was Greek to me,” his work is timeless. To them I say “Mum’s the word.” They doth protest too much, methinks.
I know my writing can’t hold a candle to anything he wrote and there’s the rub. How could I possibly come up with a way to honor him and take cold comfort in the fact that I will not become a laughing stock and make my friends declare, “Off with his head!”
The naked truth is that we writers, in our minds, sometimes believe we few, we happy few, we band of brothers and sisters are the be-all and end-all of the future of writing. That we are the indication of a sea change in the way literature will be written. That in one fell swoop, we will be the new Shakespeare. The fatal vision in this is that most of us need to realize that eventually, unlike Shakespeare, our works will vanish into thin air.
The long and the short of it is that a William Shakespeare only comes along every couple hundred years. And this simple fact puts us writers in a pickle.
We love our writing, but our love is blind. No matter how many nights we night owls burn the midnight oil, in the light of the working day world, the daily bag and baggage of life, we are required to be a literary tower of strength while we wish to be fancy free and do nothing but write to our heart’s content. There is no real rhyme nor reason to expect life to budge an inch and let us play fast and loose with such stuff that dreams are made on.
So woe is me. Maybe it’s a wild goose chase that I’m on, that my possibility of becoming a famous writer has seen better days. Maybe I should be up in arms about the way life has shown me nothing but foul play in this.
However, I will not continue to wear my heart on my sleeve and let Life throw cold water on the method in my madness. I will continue to cry “Havoc” and let loose the dogs of war on the literary world. I will not accept that what’s done is done and will continue to write just as though the world’s mine oyster.
For now though, I must say farewell. Parting is such sweet sorrow, but this little creation has become too much of a good thing. It’s high time to end this piece. However take comfort in the fact that all’s well that ends well.
So, to come full circle, I say once again, Happy Birthday to William Shakespeare, someone who really knew how to express what a piece of work is a man.